


Performance

by starshark



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Sticky Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 03:13:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starshark/pseuds/starshark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Optimus walks in on Megatron in an interesting situation, and the warlord doesn't mind having an audience in the least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Performance

**Author's Note:**

> Super quickly written story as a response to a friend's post on Tumblr about wanting to see exactly this. Severely unpolished drabble.

He’d already been self indulgent, there was no reason to stop, even when the overlord felt optics upon his splayed and bared form. He caught Optimus in the doorway, with a dumbstruck look for the sight of the Decepticon leader with one hand wrapped firmly around his spike and the other buried knuckle-deep into his valve. His pumping slowed only a moment as his mouth twisted into a sharp-toothed grin, then continued his steady pace from before, making the Autobot’s vents flare with a gasp. 

Not a word was said, nor was one needed. Megatron kept working himself, keeping his venting even for the most part as he slowly, luxuriously, indulged in his own frame. He knew he was still attractive in some light, and judging by the blush streaking over Optimus’ cheeks, he was still appreciated for his rough and tumble sort of beauty by more than just himself and his immediate command crew.

A gasp hitched in his throat before being followed up by a rumbling purr when he hit a particularly good node under a ridge just under the flare of his spike head, causing his hips to twitch up in want. Optimus went to move in want of helping the other mech, but Megatron hissed for him to stay, optics flaring bright as his ventilations picked up in time with his thrusting. His rival’s eagerness made him feel weak in the knees, and he was suddenly glad he was spread eagled over his throne instead of standing, for he surely would be on the floor in a much more debauched and vulnerable, even desperate looking position if he hadn’t draped himself across the chair first. 

As he started to thrust both hands together even faster, his vision grew blurry and he allowed himself to be even more open with his sounds, lustful moans filling the room with his voice, reverberating off the walls and into both mechs’ audials, making them shudder equally. He couldn’t tell for sure, but Megatron thought he could smell the sweet tang of Optimus’ lubricant, and he chuckled before letting loose an even louder moan, thinking the mech was surely mimicking him out of arousal for the mere sight of him like this. Just a bit more, he told himself, he was so close—

When he heard the other mech quietly call his name as if it were a dire secret, Megatron hissed again and finally let a claw slide under the ridge that protected one of his more sensitive nodes, prodding it just enough to send jolts of pleasure and heat through his already white-hot frame. A few more pumps of the hand on his spike and he choked on what would have been a roar of ecstasy, hips jerking and spike ridges flaring as arcs of transfluid spurted from his pulsating tip and spattered across his chassis. The feel of the wet heat hitting him at random was too much like bloodshed, and intensified the overload even more, so even his valve’s peak was prolonged as it spasmed and clenched around his fingers.

He vented heavily, optics hazy and distant, as he came down from the sudden high, and when he heard Optimus’ needy mewl of his name, he grinned just as self-indulgently as he had before, tilting his helm down just enough to eye the other mech pawing a now spent spike and blushing over the large puddle of fluid he’d dirtied the floor with. One optical ridge quirked, and the hand that had been curled around his spike gestured with a clawed finger for the Autobot to come closer. 

"Mmn.. I’ll let you off from cleaning up your mess if you clean up mine, Prime.”


End file.
